Rock Island daily Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1886-1893, 1887-10-14

carefully again a1ter having counteu HIS
gains He begrudged himself the little that
he needed to keep body and soul together, and
was content as long as hunger did not disable
him before he had finished his work.
One nght-it was about two years after his
last meeting with Crooked John-the doctor
was sitting in his study There WIS a sound
of footsteps in the hall-shuti1ing, uncertain
footsteps-and a wary hand seemed to bs
cropping for the door knob. The doctor arose
and opened the door "Ah, Crooked Johnf
said lie. in amazement You out SO late at
night, Crooked Johnn
Crooked John stood painting at the door
1t was some time before he was able to speak
He held his hands tightly clasped under his
chest, as if they were guarding something
precious that was hidden there sit down.
said the doctor, pushing him gently into a
chair you are i'll, l see you wish to consult
me-
"No-no." answered Crooked John, with q
bewildered look Il am not i'll"
What, then, can do for you" asked the
doctor
The cripple. casting anxious glanees about
the room, began TO inhibition his coat and
waistcoat. He took out big bag. and put
it on the table before the doctor
Count that" he said, undoing the string
and taking up a handful OF copper and silver
money 1T is SEQ
But what am / to do with it You don't
owe me anything"
You said 1t would cost SlOO"
What would cost Sl003'
TO give Helen her sight back "
The doctor stood speechless. then he
al lao ttap 1s,J Z
warmly
Mr. Won Craven he said, Il bow myself
In the dust before you"
In about "A week the famous professor came
Crooked John had planned to stand outside
and peep in through the window. so as 10 get
the first glimpse ii Helens face when she
should open her eyes upon the daylight He
had found courage to face The Thought that
ne must vanish from her life. But one part
Ing glimpse he must have of her sweet face
radiant with happiness. as she emerged into
the sunlight from her long night. This must
be the reward OF his labor He had seen the
picture i'll the old family Bible of Christ re
storing the sight of the blind. and he i'm
lsIncd the professor did it i'll very much the
same way As it hSppened however. ON the
DAY when the operation was TO take place, he
WAS too i'll to leave his bed. A fever WAS
raging in his veins His strength seemed ut
terly exhausted. The old peasant woman in
whose house he lived made tea out OF
medicinal herbs and gave it to him. But she
could not sill the raging intensity OF thought
hat ike a maelstrom whirled within his
Drain. The magnitude of his sacrifice hegan
10 show upon him In restoring the light to
Helen. he had quenched the light of his own
life What would existence I've 10 him without
ner A long gropIng through dusky solIIudes
with the cold breath of Death III his face
rhe ideal of him which she loyed-how could
be have the heart TO destroy it How could
he ever walk up to her ngly and misshappen
as he was and say 4 am the one whom you
owe / am Harold Won Craven Would she
believe INN Would she not rather turn
4waS from him with ioathlng And could Ia,
| survive her diSguSt-woulo lie nor -,uk marc
the earth before her look of scorn, From The
| depth Of his woe he cried out to God, praying
| for death But the torturing thoughts re-
| turned and returned, and neither threat nor
| prayer would keep them away. He saw MIN
self standing before her, in the glory OF youth
and strength. woong her, and accepting with
manly happiness her willing surrender. But
| behind tins beautiful youth stood crooked
little dwarf who pushed himself forward and
said TO Helen: This man Harold Won Ora.
ven is dead-can you not love his brother,
Crooked John" But Helen always said If
he is dead, then | will love him dead, as
loved him living And the dwarf, Crooked
John, stole out of sight weeping and saying
! 'Yes, let us love him dead"
For he did love him. He loved the daring
and beautiful youth that was dead and in the
| depth of his heart he would rather suffer al
endless misery than dispace him with his
present miserable self in Helen's affection.
He was his own rival, and barred himself his
own road to happiness He despaired III hi
| love, and Vet was loved. 1t was Il terrible
| paradox. But the heroic deed by which he
had hoped to win herl Alas, he was too weak
| now to dream of heroic deeds. Resignation
| dull and dreary TesignatiOn--that was all that
was III store for him. If he had only seized
his opportunity for greatness while 1t was yet
day But the night cometh when no man
,an work. And yet, had he but known it,
his great deed was doneI But Crooked John
! did not know it.
He had been lying thus for a week perhaps
! trembling on the verge OF niaGrless, -rri4or, ..
| note was sent to him by the county physician
saying that Helen had regamed her sight.
| She was constantly asking for him. with
| much anxiety, though she did not know that
! sue owed her sight to him. The doctor begged
! him to go to her. as any anxiety at this time
might affect her eyes and even plunge her
| back into darkness. He had scarcely finished
| reading the note when he tumbled out OF bed
and with Keeling senses began TO dress. 1t took
him a long WHILE again and again he lay down
on the floor and seemed on the point of losing
consciousness. 1t was about s O'Clock in the
evening when he stood under the sky and
breathed IN the sharp autumnal air. The
moon was bright overhead and the stars
| sparkled in the nocturnal blue. He tottered
along the highway, fell down and rose again.
! tie scarcely knew how he reached the river
| bank, but at the end OF about three hours he
| found himself sitting on the ground IN the
midst of the underbrush that grew close up
| to the walls of the cottage. A heavy dew
| was falling and he shivered with cold The
| consciousness of being near to Helen made
| him tremble half with JOY and half with
| fear. Should he go to herr Should he speak
| to herr All the dreadful antcipatiOns of his
| fever fancies crowded in upon him. No, he
| could not go to her. But if Helen should
| lose her sight again from grief at her not see
ing himl 1t was only for this that she had
wished to see-that she might see him But
| If she saw him! An agonizing dread shot
through him like a fiery arrow The disap,
| pomtment, the horror which the sight of him
would inspire, might not that too prove dan
| gerous to her-might not that too deprive her
| OF her sight. The question seemed henumb
| ing, overwhelming He could not answer it
| Yet whether it was well for Helen to SEE him
or not, he could not go away without see
| ing Helen. He took hold feebIy of the
! alder bushes and raised himself up, then tot
| tered over to the nearest window. Il was
close to the ground and he could look in with
ont difficulty. Before the hearth, upon
which fire was burning, sat the old grand
mother with Helen's head resting in her lap.
Sne was strokmg the girls hair and talking
sOOthingly to her
"Dmna cry, lassie,S she was saying, she
will come yet, crying will put out thy pretty
eyes again, just We have got 'em bright and
| capable"
no one cares for me, granny and cannot
help but cry"
| Shame on thee, lasse, shamel Ii he tlina
care for thee dost tina think he would ha
workit himself to death to give thee thy sight
| back again.
"Grannyr'
The girl sprang up with a joyous cry. Hell
face was as if transformed Radiance, rap-
ture, the enchanting certainty of being loved
shone out of her dark. sea blue eyes, impart-
ing to them strange, touching beauty.